The Curtis Paradigm
by blame it on the government
Summary: Sodapop Curtis is 23 years old. His life is as close to perfect as it's going to get. He lives with his wife and son and the young family is expecting another baby. Can one night ruin the perfect life that Soda has grown to not only accept, but love?
1. Chapter 1

**In a loose sense, this is a sequel to The Requiem of Amelia Curtis, but you can read this and understand the setting perfectly without having to read any other story. I hope you enjoy! **

Molly Curtis watched her son, Kevin, quietly in the dark. She had just put him to bed and with a small smile, she regarded his soft, even breath, his fine blond hair, the little dimple in his chin. Long eyelashes rested on his red, round, baby cheek. With a delicate hand, Molly reached down and stroked his skin. A small little fist twitched, a reaction to either the touch or some pleasant dream. Molly's smile widened at this small gesture. Kevin, although scarcely a year old, had grown so dear to her heart. Every day, he amazed his mother in new ways. Already, he had such a vibrant personality, giggling and bouncing and spewing the few words he knew. Not even people who claimed that they didn't like children were immue to Kevin's charm. The young mother rested a hand on her swollen belly, hoping the new baby would take after his older brother.

A soft hand on her shoulder jolted Molly out of her thoughts. She turned around only to be embraced by the warm, strong arms of her husband.

"Coming to bed?" Soda whispered into Molly's curly brunette locks, careful not to wake Kevin. "You and the baby need the rest."

"Yeah, I'm coming. I just wanted to make sure Kevin's all right."

"He's fine. It's you I'm worried about. On your feet all day, running around."

Molly followed Soda into the hallway. They kept Kevin's door open in case he fussed in his sleep.

"Women used to have children in corn fields. I think I'll be okay."

Soda laughed his beautiful, deep chuckle. Every time Molly heard that laugh, a smile came to her own lips, even if it was in spite of herself. They walked in a single file line down the narrow hallway to their bedroom. The family lived in a comfortable apartment above the garage, a nice little placed christened Soda's Station, which Soda was now the sole, proud owner. He used to share the ownership with a buddy of his he used to work with back in Tulsa. Robert, however, went to New York City, hoping to find new opportunities. Soda hadn't heard from him in a couple of months, but he trusted his friend was doing well.

"Hmmm..." Molly sighed as she opened the bedroom door and flopped onto the bed.

Life had been particularly hard for her the past two years or so, ever since they moved to Lillian, a small township in Nebraska. Tradionally, once a woman got pregnant, she quit her job and stayed home with her baby. A married woman who worked was a sign of poorness in a family and many of her coworkers assummed as much. Just the opposite was true for the Curtis family. They weren't exactly rich, but they lived quite comfortably. During the day, Kevin played in his pen downstairs while Soda worked. Sometimes, when the garage was particularly busy, the couple hired the help of Sarah, a nineteen-year-old girl with nine little brothers and sisters. Sarah was usually more than happy to escape the chaos of her own home and make a few dollars in the process.

Soda disappeared into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and considered his reflection in the mirror. A young man of twenty-three, he hadn't lost his handsomeness nor his charm. He didn't look much different than how he did when he was a teenager. Disregarding his physical appearance, so much had changed. He met his wife when she brought her car into the DX station back in Tulsa about three years ago. Molly was in her last few semesters college at the University of Tulsa, major education. She was smart, like Soda's brother, Ponyboy. She was a grade ahead in school and graduated before her seventeenth birthday. When Soda first met Molly, he had been taken by her beauty and impressed by her intelligent yet kind personality. He was embarrassed to say it, but it was love at first sight. In spite of his immediate attraction to her, though, he was hesitant of approaching her. Here she was, a college educated, beautiful woman while he was nothing more than a high school drop out working at a gas station. The first time she brought her car in, Soda hurried the process, finishing it in three days when he oringally said it'd take a full week. He just wanted her gone so he wouldn't fall too madly in love with her. To his chagrin, however, Molly began to regularly bring her car in for a whole medley of reasons. One time she needed her oil changed. Other times she needed her spark plugs fixed. She came by practically every day just to get her car filled with gasoline. After this had been going on for three weeks, Soda finally got up the nerve to ask her to the movies. Barely eight months later, they were married.

Soda shook his head of his thoughts. He undressed until he stood in nothing but his cotton undershirt and a pair of blue boxer shorts. He deposited his dirty clothes in the hamper outside the bathroom and rejoined his wife in the bedroom.

"Hi, honey," Molly sighed when she caught a glimpse of Soda. She sat at the edge of the bed in nothing but a pair of cotton panties.

Before Soda married Molly, he had never seen a naked pregnant woman before. He had thought it would be kind of disgusting, like an old fat man. But he was completely wrong. The only way to describe his pregnant wife was beautiful, the hard round lump for a belly, the perky, full breasts. Molly had a bottle of lotion in her hands and was rubbing the cream onto her stomach. She had been doing this every night since she began to show. Only five months along, her belly wasn't too big, but it was growing at such a rate that stretch marks were a worry.

"Need any help?" Soda asked with a wink as he climbed onto the bed next to her. He began to rub her naked shoulders, admiring the warmth of the creamy flesh as his hands kneaded her muscles.

"You can keep on doing that," Molly replied, murmuring in pleasure.

Soda kissed her neck and was rewared with a soft moan from his wife. Molly finished rubbing the cream on her belly, returned Soda's kiss and jumped into her warm, soft night shirt. Soda laid down on his side of the bed, Molly resting her head on her husband's chest. They were silent for a moment before Soda noted the small smile forming on his wife's lips.

"What's so funny?" Soda asked, gently breathing in Molly's ear.

"I was just thinking about the first time I saw you," she replied dreamily.

"Yeah?"

"You were so cute. You had a little smudge of grease right here." She brushed aside a lock of Soda's hair, pressing her thumb gently into his forehead. "I knew I loved you right away."

The shared a few minutes of comfortable silence before Molly continued.

"As soon as I saw you, I knew I had to see you again." She laughed a few nervous giggles. "I began to sabotoge my own car on purpose."

"You did?" Soda asked. "Golly, you never told me that."

"And when I ran out of things on my car to destroy, I began to syphon out gasoline so I'd have an excuse to come and see you."

"I'm glad you did," Soda whispered. "If you hadn't, well, I don't think I'd ever have the nerve to approach you."

"And then where would we be?" She smiled, but then the smile faltered and a soft moan came from her lips.

"What's wrong?" Soda asked, his brown, dancing eyes suddenly serious.

"Nothing," Molly muttered. "The baby just moved."

"Can I feel?"

Molly took Soda's hand and placed it on her growing belly. Soda gasped and smile as he too felt the small movement of his second child.

"I wish it were time," Molly muttered as Soda's hand swept over her night gown. "I really want to meet him."

"Or her," Soda added. "It could be a girl."

"I hope so," Molly agreed dreamily. "Not that I wouldn't be happy with a boy, but I think it would be nice to have one of each."

"What should we name him or her?"

"Hmmm..." Molly pondered out loud.

Deciding Kevin's name wasn't very hard. Molly's father, also named Kevin, passed away only days after the young couple found out they were pregnant. If Kevin turned out to be a girl, he would be named Karen. But his gender matched the chosen name and Kevin he was.

"How about Rebbecca, if it's a girl?" Soda asked softly.

"Your mothers name?"

"Yeah."

"I think it's beautiful."

They shared a deep kiss. Outside their window, the world was pure white with fresh snowfall. In about a month, Soda would close down the garage and the young family would travel to Tulsa for a week for Christmas. Molly's only living family left was her mother and she lived in a nursing home in Tulsa. The young family had missed the last two Christmases. Last year, they had newborn baby and 500 miles was kind of far to travel with a child that young. The year before that, they had just settled in Nebraska and couldn't disappear for a week. This year, though, things were good. They were at a place they wanted to be. Both of them were content and happy as they fell asleep, Soda holding Molly tight in his arms.

XXX

Soda was having a dream, a nice one. He was about fifteen years old and standing in the living room of the house he grew up in. His parents and his siblings were there when all of a sudden his mother came up to him and started shaking his arm.

"Soda!" she screamed. "Soda, come on, wake up."

His eyes flew open and he was no longer in his childhood home. His dark bedroom came into vision.

"Soda!" the voice screamed again. For a moment, he was confused. Then he felt a sharp pressure on his arm. Molly's knuckles were white as she clutched her husband.

"Molly!" Soda gasped. "What's wrong?"

Sweat beaded on her forehead as her face contorted with pain.

"Soda, it's time."

For a moment, Soda couldn't say anything. He just stared at the young woman.

"But it can't be," he sputtered back. "It's too early."

"No, Soda, I know my body and this is it. We have to go."

"Oh shit!" The profanity stumbled out of his mouth as he fell out of the bed and onto the floor. For a moment, he couldn't even think.

"Are you sure?" he asked, shouting over Molly's screams of pain. As the sleep left him, he became more and more incredulous to the situation. Women didn't have babies only five months along, did they?

Incredulousness was replaced by fear. As soon as it dawned on Soda that this might be a dangerous situation, he woke up instantly.

"Clothes," Molly screamed as she dragged herself out of bed. "And I need a bag to take to the hospital. I didn't pack a suitcase!"

Molly was hysterical. This was a sickening realization to Soda. He quickly stuffed himself into a pair of jeans and a shirt before rushing over to his wife.

"Kevin," she whispered as she struggled out of her pajamas, reaching for a maternity dress. "You got to get Kevin."

"I'll get him, honey," he whispered as he helped her into her clothes. He sat her back down on the bed before he jammed some shoes and socks onto her feet, swollen from pregnancy. The he gently took her arm and began to lead her out of the bedroom.

"Soda, my bag!" she whined, tears streaming down her face. She didn't act like this when Kevin had been born. Then again, she went into labor two days before her due date in the early evening. There was no scrambling around in the middle of the night, no fear that she might be losing her baby.

"We don't have time," Soda replied as gently as he could. They were at Kevin's room now. Soda opened the door to the nursery and gently picked up Kevin. The baby began to squirm and then cry. The young father tried to console the infant as he jammed the baby into a jacket.

Together, the three made their way downstairs. Soda put Kevin securely in his carseat before helping Molly into the passenger's seat. It was a good one hour's drive to the hospital.

Soda jumped into the driver's seat and as fast as he dared, he drove into the snowy night, both Kevin and Molly crying.

XXX

About a quarter of an hour into the trip, Molly and Kevin began to calm down. Kevin drifted into a soft sleep, warm and comfortable in his thick jacket. Soda clutched Molly's hand as he navigated a car through the thick, fluffy snow, coming down thick and fast. When they reached a stoplight, he glanced at his wife. She was beautiful, her beautiful brown hair spilling across her shoulders in ringlets. Even with her brow furrowed and sweat beading across her forehead, she was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed, save the birth of his son. His eyes drifted downward to the swollen belly and prayed that everything was all right with this child. The grief for him if they lost the baby would be insurmountable, but to Molly it would be unbearable. His traveled across her lap and that's when he saw it: the thick, red blood spreading through the lap of her skirt. He wasn't sure if Molly was aware of the blood or not, but he decided not to say anything. They only thing speech could do was frighten her.

Soda faced the road and began to drive faster.


	2. Chapter 2

Time seemed to stretch and stretch. How long was Soda driving the car, that old Dodge, through the snow? It seemed like forever. Thoughts kept traveling through his head, about Molly, about the baby. Other things kept entering his head as well. He hadn't put snow chains on the tires yet. He hadn't packed a diaper bag for Kevin. What if he crashed the car and they all froze to death before anyone found them? The car seemed so slow, even though the needle wagged erratically between 80 and 90 miles per hour. He kept pressing the gas and swearing under his breath and stealing glances at Molly.

The time dragged, but Molly didn't know that. The blood continued to spread at an alarming rate, the dark liquid seeping until the cotton of her dress clung to her body in sagging folds. Her skin drained of color until she was as pale as the snow outside the speeding car. Her eyes were closed now, her head leaning against the rattling window, her skull cracking loudly against the glass every time they hit a bump.

"Come on, baby, we're almost there," Soda said, his voice thick and husky. A warm, salty liquid began to stream down his face as he spoke the words to his unconscious wife. "We're gonna be there real soon. And you're gonna be all right and the baby's gonna be all right. Next summer." Soda took a deep breath before continuing. "Next summer, I'd thought we'd go to the beach. We can go to California, to Disney Land, the happiest place on Earth. Kevin would like that. It's warm in California, too. It doesn't snow like this."

Molly didn't say anything or respon at all. Her furrowed brow was relaxed now, her hand slacked in Soda's tight fist.

"I went to the bank yesterday," Soda continued, his voice rising an octave, cracking slightly in the high pitch. "I want to open a college savings account for the kids. I know how hard you had to work to put yourself through school. I don't want them to worry like that."

Somehow, the clandestine speech of the future made Soda relax a little bit. For some reason, he had a feeling that they were all going to die, right here, on a dark and lonesome highway somewhere in rural Nebraska. The snow kept piling onto the Earth and Soda could no longer make the out the road clearly. If there was a sharp turn, he would undoubtedly miss it, sending the car and his entire family rolling through snow drifts to their deaths.

He eased his foot off the gas, but only slightly. After all, if his wife died, there would be no reason for him to continue living.

After an a day, a year, an eternity, the hospital loomed in the distance. It was only a small county hospital, but they would have to drive three hours to reach a bigger hospital with more equipment. Molly didn't have three hours.

Soda pulled into the emergency area and jumped out of the car, running to doors.

"Help!" he screamed as he pulled one of the doors open before running back to the car. Molly was still, her hand cold to the touch.

A group of men dressed in white appeared at the car and immediately began loading Molly out her seat and onto a gurney.

"Got a pulse!" one man shouted as they began to wheel Molly away. Soda exhaled a sigh of relief he didn't know he had been holding.

The young husband and father desperately wanted to run along the gurney and follow his wife everywhere she went, but his responsibilities were now with Kevin. Molly was being taken care of. He went to the back and lifted the sleeping baby out of his carseat. Kevin opened his large, brown eyes and looked up at Soda.

"Daddy?" Kevin asked in a small, sleepy voice.

"I gotcha, big guy," Soda muttered, straddling the infant against his waist.

As fast as he dared to run with Kevin in his arms, Soda hurried into the hospital, scurrying behind the large group of nurses and doctors that had already began to form around his wife. Molly was wheeled through the stark white hospital and through a pair of swinging doors. Soda tried to run through them as well, but a nurse stopped him, placing a hand firmly on his chest. For a moment, the poor man stood with a desperate look on his face, panting from the efforts of the evening, staring at the doors his wife just disappeared through.

"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse said softly. "You can't go back there."

"B-but," Soda stuttered. "I have to be with her. I have to protect her."

"There's nothing you can do for her right now," the nurse replied, her tone softening more. "She's being taken care of." The nurse grabbed Soda's arm and led him to a small waiting area.

"I have to be with her," Soda added uselessly as the nurse helped into a chair.

"And you will be with her, just not right now." With that, the nurse walked back to the nurse's station and resumed her post at the front of the waiting room.

In Soda's arms, Kevin had fallen asleep again, his brown eyes hidden by a soft membrane.

Soda must have dozed off as well for the next thing he knew, a doctor was placing a kind hand on his arm to waken him.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Marks," the thin, wiry man said. "I'm taking care of your wife. How far along is she?" His voice was low and soothing, the kind of voice Soda imagine he used when talking to dying patients.

"She's five months along," Soda replied, shaking off the sleep. "How is she?"

Dr. Marks sat down in the chair next to Soda and then turned to face the haggard man.

"I'm going to be honest with you, she's lost a lot of blood." The doctor tried to maintain his soothing voice through the blunt speech, but he was failing. "We were able to stem the flow, but it won't entirely stop. There's only one thing we can do now to save your wife."

"Anything," Soda breathed. "Anything you can do to help her, do it."

The doctor sighed before continuing.

"We would have to deliver the baby."

Soda nodded his head and then shook it.

"What would happen to the baby if you delivered her now?"

"At only five months gestation, there's no hope the baby can live outside the womb." As the news became bleaker, the doctor's soothing facade began to fade until his voice was cold and emotionless, strictly business.

"You can't then. You can't deliver her." Soda shook his head, his stubbly chin scratching against Kevin's head. "That baby means everything to Molly and me. If she died, then Molly would be devastated."

"You have two options here," the doctor said. "Either we deliver the baby now and Molly lives. Or you watch as both your wife and unborn child dies. Which one are you going to choose?"

"Save Molly," Soda breathed, his voice no louder than a whispering ghost.

The doctor gave a brief, curt nod to Soda before standing up and running through those swinging doors, his white coat billowing behind him.

Soda shifted Kevin in his arms, a strange emotion coming over him. It was a sadness tainted with other feelings that he couldn't quite place. It took him a moment to realize what he was feeling: grief. He knew this emotion, was more familiar with it than he cared to ever be. But it was different than any other time he had ever experienced it. When his parents and Johnny and Dallas died, he kept having waves and waves of anguish, wishing he could be them, remembering their faces and how they spoke and what color their eyes were and if they liked chocolate cake for breakfast. But this, he was mourning the loss of someone he had never met. He could not visualize this child in his mind. He couldn't even attatch a name to him or her.

Soda glanced at the clock on the wall and read the time: a quarter until four in the morning. They had been at the hospital for about an hour. There was only an hour left until Kevin's usual wake up time. At that time, Soda would have to find diapers and a bottle. There was a pediatric ward in this small hospital, so finding the right supplies wouldn't be too much of a hassle.

Soda shook his head. How could be thinking of such ordinary, simple things like diapers and bottles when his second born was being forcibly removed from the womb, killed in a sense? A tear trickled down Soda's face, disappearing into a thick patch of stubble. He knew he was sight for sore eyes- unshaven, unshowered, hair tosseled from sleep, clad in yesterday's clothes. And now he was crying, a pathetic loser on top of everything else.

A half hour passed before Dr. Marks came around again. His jaw was set, a stony expression on his face.

"Mr. Curtis?" the doctor asked. "Your wife is about to deliver the baby. Would you like to be there with her?"

The words were barely out of Dr. Marks mouth before Soda was standing, hitching Kevin onto his hip, striding through those swinging doors. Dr. Marks led Soda through a stark white corridor, past patients in gurneys until they reach a white door. Dr. Marks held the door open as Soda walked through.

And there was Molly, her skin as pale as a porcelain doll's, her body still, unmoving.

"What's wrong with her?" Soda asked, his voice thick. "Why is she sleeping? She has to be awake to push!"

"She's sedated," Dr. Marks explained. "We gave her a medication, a hormone, that will induce labor. She was already in labor when she came in. We gave her a medication to stop it. Her body will do what it does and will naturally push the baby out."

"Are you sure this is the right decision?" Soda whispered.

"The baby punctured a major artery. There's no way to fix it with the baby still inside."

Soda nodded his head and kissed his son, his only, perfect child.

"Take a seat," Dr. Marks said as he indicated to a chair besides Molly's bed. Soda didn't hesitate as he flopped down, exhausted to the bone.

"After Molly delivers the baby, we're going to roll her into the operating room and fix the punctured artery before she looses any more blood," the doctor explained. "Right now, we're going to get ready for the delivery."

As Dr. Marks spoke the words, two nurses came into the room. One fixed Molly's bed so that her back was now nearly perpendicular to the floor while the other removed the blanket. The doctor positioned himself between Molly's legs, a surgical mask in place around his mouth and nose. For a few minutes, nothing moved. Then, the doctor's hands began to pull, gentle tugs coming from his wrists. In just moments, a small, bloody creature laid in his hands, the umbilical cord attatched to the poor thing like a venemous snake.

"She's so beautiful," Soda breathed as he caught sight of his daughter. She was so small. Kevin had only been five pounds when he was born, a small baby. But Rebbecca was perhaps only half of that, if she was even that heavy. Soda guessed she was no more than a pound.

The doctor took his from around stethoscopeound his neck, pushing the metal oval onto the newborn's chest. He listened for a moment or two before taking the instrument off the child, shaking his head.

"No pulse," he said, almost sadly. "The trauma of the birth at such a small age probably killed it."

"Her," Soda said and was surprised by the venom in his voice.

"Well, her lungs probably weren't strong enough to sustain life anyway."

"Her name is Rebbecca," Soda continued, ignoring the doctor's words. "She's named for my mother."

"Beautiful," Dr. Marks muttered, turning to Molly. As he did, he gasped. Soda turned his gaze to Molly only to be horrified at the sight he saw.

Blood. That's all he saw. Blood wasn't oozing, but gushing from between Molly's legs. Around him, the doctor began to shout directions to the nurses around him. Needles pushed their way through Molly's skin as the doctor fumbled around, looking for something.

Then Soda heard it: the horrible, screeching sound as the heart monitor flatlined.

"Move out of the way," Soda heard a voice say as a pair of soft hands dragged him away from the bed. Helpless, Soda watched as the nurses ripped open Molly's hospital gown, pressing metal rectangles into her bosom.

"Clear!" a voice shouted. Molly's whole chest heaved up before falling back down.

"Clear!" Heave. "Clear!" Heave. "Clear!" Heave.

The cycle was unending, a continuing pattern.

Finally, the rectangles were removed, put back on the machine they belonged to.

The doctor looked at his watch.

"Molly Curtis," he said. "5:24 AM."


End file.
